


Yours most sincerely

by TheGreenMeridian



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: And Francis dotes on rosslings, Epistolary, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Thomas Blanky gives good if somewhat crude advice, in which I hand out happy endings like candy, the smut is right at the end and easily avoided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenMeridian/pseuds/TheGreenMeridian
Summary: A friendship grows in ink and paper, and a future after the Expedition blossoms in words.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 17
Kudos: 44
Collections: Fall Fitzier Exchange





	Yours most sincerely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ararelitus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ararelitus/gifts).



> Hoo boy this thing kept growing.
> 
> I was in two minds as to whether or not to split this into chapters. I decided to just do it as one big thing. The chapter count would have been obscene otherwise.
> 
> As I said in the tags, there is smut but it’s confined to end of the final letter and it’s very easy to spot when it’s about to happen so it’s easy to avoid if it’s not your bag.

My dear James,

I apologise for the delay in writing to you. You are no doubt aware of the excitement that’s been taking place here and I’m sure you can imagine the upheaval our latest arrival has caused to the usual running of the house and the lives of its inhabitants. Darling Thomas is of course worth every disruption and we are all glad to be in his thrall.

What else of England? I received word from our Commander Little last week – he’s found posting aboard the Albion under Charles Fremantle. I’ve not much knowledge of Fremantle but Albion at least is a fine ship. She’ll be sailing for the Mediterranean so you’ll see her for yourself soon enough and Edward with her. I know I’ve no need to ask you but do make sure he’s well and give him a good welcome.

Weather here has been much as you’d expect. My knee has become something of a bellwether for coming rain and I am acutely aware of my age these days. The damp air finds its way into my joints unless I spend all day beside the fire and despite retirement I’m not yet prepared to confine myself to a single chair and see nothing of the outside world. I would be jealous of your posting were it not for the fact that I deplore the heat almost as much as the rain. Though I admit now that I’m not quite as opposed to warmer climes as I once was.

Between bemoaning the weather and occupying the voracious attention of Sir James’ progeny I’ve been continuing to update myself with scientific advancements made during our absence. There’s been much development in the field of magnetism – not least the discovery of ‘paramagnetism’ by Faraday. I’ve been attempting to recreate some of his experiments to see the phenomenon for myself but the frequent intrusion by little James has slowed me considerably. Would you be surprised to know I hardly mind at all? He’s a curious little lad and while he can’t grasp concepts he does so love to listen to me explain it all. I’m his favourite ‘Uncle’ or so he says. I have become the only one permitted to read to him each evening and he follows me much like a pup when not otherwise occupied with his tutor. Sir James has thanked me endlessly for keeping him entertained and easing the load of the nanny and of Ann but truth be told it’s no difficulty at all on my part. He asks after you too and I suspect he’ll be your little shadow instead when you’re back.

Tell me how you are faring and regale me with tales of the adventures you are somehow managing to have in Gibraltar and the people you’ve charmed. Much as I enjoy the company of the children I do find myself painfully lacking adult company and would even be willing to listen to your roast duck story if just for the excuse to curse freely.

Yours most sincerely,

F. R. M. Crozier

****

Dear Francis,

Well! Imagine my surprise at waking up one morning and being handed your letter with my breakfast after such a long wait. I suppose I must let you off given the mayhem of a new arrival, so I shall try to temper my annoyance at having to go without for so long – but be warned, I will not suffer future delays without complaint!

Your letter reaches me well, though bored half to death and sadly utterly lacking in adventure. There is little required of me here but paperwork and socialising, the former so dull I find myself excited whenever I spot misspellings, and the latter holding far less interest than I’d ever dreamed possible. It seems I left my love of holding court somewhere upon the ice, and I can hardly manage to muster more than polite interest to anyone else’s anecdotes. Is this how you felt when listening to me witter on about my exploits? If it is, I feel I owe you a greater debt than can ever be repaid. Though, perhaps it is simply the sort of people one finds in Gibraltar. Society here is utterly uninteresting, being that the land is less than three square mile, and despite such thrills as smuggling and criminals from all over the Continent trying to flee across the Strait, there is surprisingly little to talk about at any of these social events. It’s made all the worse by how damnably excited anyone with an unmarried daughter or niece becomes upon discovering I’m a bachelor. I’ve been introduced to I think every eligible young woman of standing on the peninsula and had many more back in England described to me, and I’m certain I’ve been all but promised to countless potential brides by now. Please believe I mean no disrespect to these women when I say I’ve no interest at all in marrying any of them. Though there are a few mothers I believe capable of knocking me over the head and drag me to church for their daughters, so the choice may not be my own at all.

I am not entirely lacking in good company here. Shortly after my arrival, my housekeeper informed me that her sister’s cat had produced a healthy litter and asked if I would like one. My new companion’s name is Namur, which is Arabic for ‘tiger’. She is not at all as ferocious as her namesake, and spends most of her day sleeping or, when I am home, following me from room to room and chirping at me incessantly. Needless to say, I am utterly taken with her.

I am thrilled to hear of Edward’s appointment. I’ve met Fremantle once or twice and he seems a solid sort, hopefully one that will treat our Edward well. It shall be marvellous to see him again. Ships arrive regularly here of course, and we inhabitants are always glad for the fresh conversation whenever visitors have the time to attend our gatherings. A visit from a man I respect and care for as much as Edward Little will be especially welcome at the tedious dinner parties. I admit too to desiring the company of one who understands my reticence in talking about it all, a desire I’m sure you can appreciate.

So, onto the subject of your knee! I am inclined to believe that the true issue is your foot, or rather your refusal to walk with a cane to compensate for it. Why do I think this? Because your doctor said as much, as well you know. Heading into autumn as we are (not that we can really be said to have an autumn here), it’s surely only going to cause you more difficulties. Use your cane, Francis!

It does not surprise me at all that you’ve become such a favourite of Sir James’ children. Despite your best efforts to hide it, I know you’re quite softhearted deep down. You forget, Francis, that I’ve seen you lavish Neptune with affection, and I also once caught you giving dear old Fagin a scratch behind the ear and telling him what a good cat he is, when we both know he shirked his duties in favour of sleeping more often than not. It’s no great shock to me at all that you are willing to indulge little James (goodness, three of us now!) with his questions. My heart is warmed at the thought of it!

You know, I never told you how much I doubted the sense of taking this posting. After all we went through to get back to England, leaving again seemed like tempting fate. But you were quite right when you said the warm weather and having something to occupy my time would do me good, and despite my earlier complaints of boredom, I must confess to feeling more at peace here than I ever did in Buckinghamshire – much as I appreciated Sir James’ hospitality! I miss you (and Sir James and Ann) terribly, and I do hope you can visit soon.

Do look in on Bridgens for me when you’re next in London, and tell me how his little shop is faring. And please include that paper on paramagnetism with your reply, I may not have your talent for the field, but I am terribly interested nonetheless. 

Your dear friend,

James Fitzjames

****

My dear James,

I will ignore your advice regarding the cane. I am quite well enough without it and I am not such an old invalid that I willing to submit to its use just yet. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that fainting spell you had when refusing to remain abed aboard Enterprise either – you’ve no place to talk about following doctor’s orders.

I never thought I’d ever hear you profess such dislike for socialising and I admit it has me concerned. Are you unwell? Such a dramatic change in personality can be a symptom of illness, I hear. Or perhaps you’ve spent too much time with me and taken on some of my manner. Don’t fret I’m sure you’ll be back to your old self soon enough. As for whether you’re suffering as I did listening to you talk over wardroom dinners – if you get the urge to stab anyone’s hand with a fork you may indeed be having a taste of it. You certainly are if the urge has been to stab your own hand.

In seriousness though I understand. Going through what we did changes a man. We all lost something of ourselves out there and in your case what remains is the best of you. It’s no surprise that listening to vanity bores you now.

I am surprised by the name of your cat. I would have thought you would have called her ‘cheetah’ given your previous ownership of such a beast. I miss having an animal about. Perhaps now I am land-bound I can justify a dog – with Sir James’ and Ann’s permission of course though I am sure the children will be all for it.

I do wonder at your not being willing to take any of the offered brides. Surely there must be one who tempts you?

You asked me to visit Bridgens and I shall for I’m heading to London in the first week of October. Jopson’s Lieutenant exam will be taking place in Greenwich and I intend to support him through it. It took us all long enough to make them allow him and I don’t intend to let him down now. I’ll be spending perhaps three weeks in the city – plenty of time to visit Bridgens. Sir James tells me I must visit Lady Franklin too so I suppose I must.

I’ve recently had letters from some of our mutuals friends. Thomas Blanky is happy and well in Grimsby and his wife promises we shall both be fed well should we ever visit. He is a dear friend and since Dr Goodsir has invited me to Edinburgh should I be willing to make the journey perhaps I shall travel North come spring and see them both. I believe your Mr Collins is staying with the Goodsirs and I should like to see him as well.

Irving stopped by last week to see me and to tell me he’s signed on to a merchant vessel heading for New Zealand. He’ll pay his voyage by working then find work for himself there with a farm. He seemed to think I’d be disappointed in him for leaving the Service but I wished him well and meant it too. If tending sheep all day in a land as far from the Passage as he can find is what will make him happy then he’s right to seek it. The ship will likely stop in Gibraltar to resupply before she heads for St Helena so you may see him for yourself.

I wish I had more to tell you but it’s been uneventful here. Little Thomas is doing well and Ann is recovering from her ordeal. The other children have made me promise to bring them all something back from London. Sir James is as happy and exhausted as any father and sends his best wishes and his regrets that he cannot find the time to write to you more than a few lines as he’s so devoted to Ann’s care. The nurse is most put out at him being so attentive – apparently such behaviour is not the norm but Sir James will hear none of it.

I’ve included the article – read it through and give me your thoughts.

Yours most sincerely,

F. R. M. Crozier

****

Dear Francis,

How delighted I am to hear that Mr Jopson is soon to be Lieutenant Jopson on paper and not just our minds! I’ve written to him myself but please do reiterate to him how highly I think of him. Truly, there’s none more deserving than he. I wish I could be there to congratulate him on his inevitable success myself, but alas!, I must remain here for the foreseeable future.

We’ve had ourselves a little excitement here, in the form of a ship of the Ottoman Fleet colliding with a Dutch merchant vessel while coming in to port. Neither ship was particularly damaged – a mere glancing blow rather than a collision proper – but both Captains considered the other at fault and both demanded recompense for lost time and the cost of repairs. Frankly, I think the Dutch Captain was in entirely the wrong position as he was leaving, but I was instructed by Sir Gardiner to smooth the whole thing over without allowing blame to fall on either side, so I had to persuade the both of them that it was a simple accident that neither could have prevented. I was, thankfully, successful. I learned in the course of my travels through Arabia the near mystical powers a good pot of coffee can have during a dispute, and a few cups of finest Turkish brew had both men feeling rather more reasonable. By the end of the meeting I had both of them the best of friends, and the matter resolved with satisfaction to all. Gardiner declared I had ‘diplomacy in my blood’ – you can easily imagine how I paled at that! He said nothing more of my damnable blood though, so I must attempt to presume it a figure of speech.

I had a hearty laugh at your comment regarding potential wives. Do you not know me at all, Francis? I don’t believe I shall ever be content to settle down. Besides, a woman is unlikely to understand some of the strange habits I’ve acquired since rescue. How could a man explain to his wife that he cannot bear the texture of any meat but chicken or mince without terrifying her half to death? No, I’m well enough with my dear friends, far from me though you all may be.

On the subject of friends (and of wives too), Dundy is planning on making a proposal to a woman by the name of Elizabeth Duckworth, introduced to him by his favourite sister. She’s a somewhat distant relative of Sir John Duckworth, and by all accounts incredibly charming and accomplished, not to mention prettier by far than any he’s ever seen. He’s marvellously smitten and I’ve no doubt she’ll say yes. I’ve met the favoured sister and she would not have attempted to matchmake unless certain of her success. I doubt I’ll be allowed leave to visit England to attend the wedding, but he did promise to bring her to visit afterwards.

I do hope you get to visit Blanky and dear Goodsir next year. I am in regular contact with Harry now myself, and I’m sure he’d love to discuss the finer points of the Inuktitut language with you. Perhaps you should persuade Blanky to join you in Edinburgh so that Harry may pick both your brains. Mr Collins would be happy to see him too, I’m sure. I worry about that man, Lord knows he did not come home unscathed and it would do him good to see a friendly face.

Now, onto the article. I’m afraid a not insignificant portion of it went right over my head. I feel much as I did when they told me I was to be in charge of such things for the expedition: utterly unqualified and terribly inept. We both know it should have been you given the position, and it ranks highly in the list of decisions regarding the Expedition I simply cannot fathom that you were not.

I’m excited to hear I shall likely be visited by another Terror. I agree with you, Mr Irving deserves happiness and if he can find it in neither England nor in uniform, I hope he can find it in New Zealand. It’s a land I’ve always wanted to visit, Graham (God rest his soul) shared some of his Grandfather’s stories of the Antipodes and the strange creatures to be found there, and I would very much like to see them for myself. The stuffed versions at exhibits cannot possibly be accurate. You’ve been to such lands, are such things as kangaroos and platypuses and those delightful wombats truly real?

Once again my letter has reached thrice the length of yours, and I do know how much you hate me to ramble on, so I shall finish here. Namur is waiting for me to retire so that she might take her place on my bed, and I am powerless but to serve her.

As always, give my love to Sir James and his family, and tell the children I shall bring them all treats when next I am to come home (whenever that may be). And do let me know when you get to London safely.

Your dear friend,

James Fitzjames

P.S. And use your damn cane or I shall sprout wings and fly back to England to make you do so myself!

****

My dear James,

I’m writing to you from the comfort of Sir James’ London home. I arrived safely by train and then carriage the night previous and have spent much of today trying to avoid setting foot outside. London is as busy and unpleasant as I remember it and I am very much longing for the country. I promised Jopson however I would at least try to socialise so I will have to leave this sanctuary tomorrow.

I will write to you again at the end of my stay when I have stories worth sharing and have had the time to properly read yours. I am merely obeying your request to announce my safe arrival.

Yours most sincerely,

F. R. M. Crozier

****

My dear James,

I shall respond to your last letter before detailing my stay in London because I know it shall drive you mad.

I’m unsurprised you managed to resolve the situation with the two captains. You’ve always had a knack for charming all but the most obstinate of men and even in such cases as that you eventually succeed – no matter how much they may resent you for it. My solution to the matter would likely have been to let the fools argue it between themselves with my only intervention being to ensure neither had a pistol. Am I right in supposing you had half a mind to do the same? In any case I hope the ships have been repaired by now and that both are no longer under your jurisdiction. If Gardiner has not yet rewarded you for it do let me know and I’ll have Sir James kick up a fuss about it to the admiralty.

You will by now be aware that your Lieutenant Le Vesconte had his proposal accepted. I know because a letter arrived for Jopson that promised an invitation to the event as soon as a date were chosen. There was a similar letter upon my own desk when I arrived home last night. Jopson says he shall attend if he has not a ship by then. Being retired I am free to attend whatever functions I choose and though it may surprise you I am willing to see Le Vesconte married and even to attend the festivities surrounding the occasion. Perhaps you’ve been as much an undue influence on me as I apparently have been on you. 

It bothers me that you see yourself as destined for a life alone. I’ve made my peace with my lot in life – old as I am I’ve little choice but to do so– but you dear James are young and handsome and far more a catch than I ever was. If you would truly be happy not seeking companionship I’ll say nothing else of it. I don’t wish you to think of yourself as damaged to some intolerable degree is all. You deserve happiness as much as our men.

Your suggestion regarding a trip to Edinburgh via Grimsby was a good one and I have written to both households to begin arranging such a trip for spring. I imagine both shall be invited to Le Vesconte’s wedding celebrations too along with everyone else who made it home. I know for a fact that Bridgens and Peglar have received the same preemptive invitation as myself and Jopson. Were you aware of Peglar now working for Bridgens in his shop? I found out only when visiting and I was pleased to see young Peglar looking so hale. He’s recovered well and barely showing any sign of having been ill at all and it seems life in a bookseller’s is suiting him. He was a fine sailor and the Navy has lost a good man but he has found his calling. Bridgens is as happy as I’ve ever seen him too though I don’t know him as well as you. He sent me away with three novels and a treatise on electromagnetism by Oersted and refused any attempt on my part to offer payment. 

I obeyed my promise to Sir James and stopped in on Lady Franklin. She is well though still in mourning I think for she had not half the spirit I remember her having. She was surprisingly genial and though uncomfortable the entire visit I left glad to have seen her. A line has been drawn by us both beneath it all I think. I saw Sophia too. She is well and sends her regards along with her aunt.

And now I suppose I shall get to the news you’ve been likely been cursing me for delaying. Jopson did exceedingly well in his exam and I have no doubt his promotion shall be granted. He would not let my buy his uniform outright but I believe I’ve managed to persuade him to accept the combined efforts of Little and Irving who have also offered. While I don’t have a son in the true sense I am certain I feel as a father does at his success. He is after all as close as I shall ever have to such a thing and is far better than any I could have produced myself. 

On the subject of children the little Rosses were most excited to see me return home – especially so when I produced gifts. New dolls for Charlotte and Anna both, some paints for little James and a rattle for Thomas. The ones old enough to possess teeth were also given some sweets and I saved some for Sir James and Ann too as both have a sweet tooth that rivals that of the children.

I’ve enclosed my notes on the article along with a glossary I’ve compiled of terms that might be giving you pause. You were under qualified for the role of studying magnetics but you are – I begrudgingly admit – capable of becoming a decent student of the science if you apply yourself to it.

The creatures of which you’ve heard do indeed exist and are many times more odd in person. Wombats are delightful things and waddle along as is befitting their bulk while kangaroos are quite terrifyingly large. I preferred wallabies above all else – they are smaller by far than kangaroos – though the same shape – and possess equal parts timidity and curiosity. Like kangaroos they carry their young in a pocket upon their belly – once I fed a tame mother from my hand and a little head appeared and took from my hand also and scared me half to death in the process.

And I will use the cane on rainy days and if there is ice. Will that be sufficient?

Yours most sincerely,

F. R. M. Crozier

****

My dear Francis,

Your concern for my happiness is appreciated more than you can ever know, but please be assured that I am happy as I am. I know you came to your bachelorhood with much less willingness than I, but perhaps you can still understand why I might find more happiness among friends than in any other circumstance. 

I would perhaps find my situation improved by having you here to keep me company, though. I miss your grumbling more than I thought possible and I do hope you can visit me soon. Gardiner has not yet rewarded me, but I do have his favour and I believe I could leverage it for some small leave with which we could explore the peninsular or perhaps even take a short jaunt across the Strait to visit a souk. The cuisine of the region is unlike anything you would have experienced and though it is not hard to find in Gibraltar, the atmosphere is not at all the same. I should like very much to introduce you to it all and I believe you would find it all as bewitching as I. 

I am so happy to hear that Bridgens and Peglar are happy and well. I’m surprised you didn’t know they lived and worked together. I had thought we’d all been aware of their friendship by the time rescue came. In any case, I can think of no better place for them then surrounded by books, and I hope to see the business for myself someday. I’m sure they’ll make a success of it.

I am glad to hear your visit to Lady Franklin was not too painful. I would comment more on the occasion, but as you have been so sinfully miserly with details, I have little to go on! I am surprised you had nothing to say of seeing Miss Cracroft beyond that she is well, too. Was it so difficult to see her after all this time?

You talk of my perpetual bachelorhood bringing you sorrow, yet you speak so openly of your fatherly affection for Jopson as if it will not put tears in my eyes! My God, Francis! If you could see me now you’d be appalled, such a state you’ve made of me. Of course you see Jopson as a son, and only a fool could see the two of you together and not surmise that he sees you very much as a father. Do tell him in words, won’t you? I think we both know too well the cost of leaving sentiment unsaid, and the lad deserves to know he is loved. I also think you far too harsh on yourself, if you think you would not have been a good father to natural children. Your talent with the little Rosses should be evidence enough in your favour. Any child would have been lucky indeed to have had you as their father.

I knew Jopson would pass. He’s a smart young man, a finer soul I’ve never known, and I envy most keenly the Captains who will benefit from his promotion. I’ve sent him a letter of my congratulations and an offer to recommend him to any Captain or posting he might have his eye on.

You saw right through me regarding the dispute at the port. I did fantasise quite vividly about letting them both settle it with fists and washing my hands of the situation. It just seemed so bloody stupid! Why cling to a belief that you are right, when the problem you face could be dealt with so much easier if blame and arrogance were put aside? Of course, I realise the irony of my words. But I did learn from our horrors, Francis. And it is awfully difficult to stomach those who remind me of the man I was before you and the Arctic got your hands on me and moulded me into the one I am. I find myself at times dreadfully envious of Namur. She has little to do but sleep and explore without impediment, and cares not at all for the goings on of Man if they do not affect her rest or play. How wonderful it must be to be a cat.

I have no real news to report. One of the patrols managed to catch a clipper smuggling tobacco from Algeria to (we think!) Sardinia, and the Captain sits in the brig awaiting the decision on what we do with him. I was, naturally, sitting behind my desk when the action took place, and I shall be sitting behind my desk for the next one. What a different life I lead now. I know I could not manage true service at sea again – having nether the physical nor the mental fortitude for such a thing – yet the thought of spending the remainder of my career staring at paperwork and logbooks is quite a taxing one. Your article has been a most welcome change, especially now I have the means to decipher it. You were right to suspect I required a glossary and combined with your notes, I feel I have genuinely learned something of magnetism. If you come across anything else of interest you would like to attempt to teach me, please don’t hesitate to send it.

A shorter letter for you today, it seems. I do wish I had more to tell you. But perhaps you can tell me more of your life. If not the present, then the past? Tell me of Banbridge, won’t you? Or of the first time you saw the sea. I am dreadfully bored and I need something to look forward to.

Yours as always,

James

(And do tell me how your knee and foot are faring or I shall worry incessantly.)

****

My dear James,

My knee and the remains of my foot have been relatively well these last few days. As well as can be expected given the weather. I’d not thought anywhere capable of such miserable damp as Ireland but Buckinghamshire seems intent on dispelling that idea. 

So you wish to hear of my childhood home? An odd request but one I shall try my best to meet. We lived in the centre of Banbridge in a home my father had built long long before my birth but I spent most of my time outside of the town – in the hills and farmland. I had a dog – a wolfhound almost twice my height at that age by the name of Mór – and we would walk for miles together until it grew dark enough that we had to return. We spent a night together in an old barn once when rain came suddenly and would not abate though I did not grow cold despite the drafts as she was a fine blanket. The countryside was my home more than Banbridge ever was. Mother and the elder sisters still at home would despair over the state of my clothing when I came home and of the hours I chose to keep but no punishment could persuade me to spend more than the necessary amount of time at home.

We summered by Lough Neagh and I taught myself to swim there. It’s not quite the sea but it gave me a love and respect of water that made my father’s demand that I join the Navy an easy one to follow. When I first saw the sea it was when my father took me to Newcastle. That is the one in County Down rather than Northumberland. I was around 10 I think and I remember little of note but the smell of the air and the sounds of the port. I doubt I can do the feeling evoked in me justice were I to attempt to describe it. You know it in any case. You must have felt the same when you first heard sails and ropes and the shouts of men.

I have told Jopson of my feelings towards him both after his examination and back there when he was ill and we had no hope of rescue. He knows – though he turns several shades of red at the mention of it.

I was aware of the friendship between Bridgens and Peglar but I had thought it a result of the loneliness we all must have felt under the circumstances. I turned a blind eye to it at the time – punishing them for finding comfort in such hell would have been a cruelty too much even for me – but I saw between them during my visit something that spoke of a longer lasting affection. Truthfully I wish them well. After the things we’ve seen it is difficult to find much sin in happiness. Admitting that to you is perhaps dangerous but I believe you feel much the same as I.

I would have shared more of my meeting with Lady Franklin were there more to share. We spoke mostly of Sir John and shared memories of him on Van Diemens. As for Sophia it was indeed difficult to see her but not perhaps for the reasons you are suspecting. The man who wished for her hand did not return from the Arctic and though it does hurt to see her in many ways I cannot pretend I am not changed enough to know I would not be made happy by her. That in itself is something I find myself mourning.

Your talk of boredom and a lack of contentment with your position has me concerned. You must know that this is not your only choice. Complete your duty James but consider your options for the future. You were made for more than a desk and I had some misgivings about you taking this position for exactly that reason – much as I wanted you somewhere warm. Though I agree with you that neither of us are fit for duty at sea anymore there are still other avenues open to you. Perhaps a position aboard a merchant or passenger vessel will suit you better than the Navy or perhaps retirement and travel. Perhaps we shall both take a leaf from Irving’s book and find ourselves in New Zealand or Australia – though I know from experience the latter is damnably hot and riddled with the most awful creatures. Wombats and wallabies are all well and good but toxic spiders and snakes I could do without. I am told New Zealand is substantially more hospitable and home to some interesting flightless birds. There is also said to be penguins and I know you have always been jealous of my having encountered them.

I’ve made further progress in planning my trip to Edinburgh which seems a certainty now. Blanky will have me for a week in April then the pair of us shall travel north to Scotland. He would have liked to have had me for a month but I refused to take advantage of his wife’s hospitality more than that. Goodsir is eager to see us both and says Collins is looking forward to it also. There are still several months between then and now but I am glad to have something to look forward to myself.

The children have been as busy as ever and I include several drawings made for you by little James, Anna, and Charlotte. Thomas has contributed a print of his hand and though he did not know why we were dipping him in paint he seemed to enjoy the fuss.

Ann is tired but well and glowing with that happiness only known in a mother and Sir James is – as always – gazing at her as though she were the first sighting of land after many difficult months at sea. They send their best wishes and love and I am sure they have written too now that they are both beginning to acknowledge the world outside of their happy home.

I’ve included also an article Goodsir sent me on the latest discovered beasts of Australia. I thought perhaps it might encourage you to take up painting the creatures of Gibraltar if there are any to be found. It seems a good hobby for you and it is a field in which you possess talent. I will send on the book by Oersted when I am finished making notes on it for you.

Yours,

Francis Crozier

****

My dear Francis,

I apologise for the tone of my last letter. I fear I have been letting myself fall victim to melancholy of late, but be assured I am making a concerted effort to pull myself out of it. Your suggestion I take up painting again has helped greatly. There’s little wildlife of note here but I have been making small studies of the landscape and of ships, and I find the activity to be most soothing. I’ve included a watercolour of the harbour, a work of which I am particularly proud, and a small sketch of Namur asleep by the fire. It is perhaps not quite so beautiful as the gifts from the children, but I hope you can appreciate it all the same.

You do not know how much it pleases me to hear you speak of Bridgens and Peglar, and the little life they have made together. I admit to being concerned you may have taken issue with it, though I of course trusted you not to bring any harm to them. John Bridgens is a dear soul and a man I have great respect for, his tastes have always been known to me and have made no difference. I envy him, truth be told. To find such an enduring love (almost 20 years they’ve known each other!) is a rare thing indeed, especially given the circumstances of our world for men of that inclination. I am glad you can see it too. They are much as Sir James and Lady Ross, you know. Any man should be so lucky as the two of them.

I should like to see Banbridge. Promise you’ll take me one day, and show me all the places you ran about as a boy. It pleases me greatly to think of young Francis proving himself an explorer before he ever dreamed he would land on the Pitcairns or hold a penguin. I know those times were not all youthful folly for you, but I choose only to think of you happy then, as you deserve always to be.

My childhood was rather less free-roaming, for Mrs Conningham was a worrying sort, but I still conquered the tree in our garden regularly and explored every inch of the house. I found my way up into the attic once, and down again into a small space between rooms that must have been created in a renovation many years before. It was barely a foot wide and not three long, but I claimed it as mine all the same and decorated it with drawings of imagined ships and soldiers. It was my Great Cabin, the place from which I planned all my conquests and battles. I never told a soul of it, not even Will. I felt like I had something of my own, just for me, and I guarded it jealously. Poor Mrs Conningham never did find out why I would appear for lunch some days covered in cobwebs.

So you see, I knew I was to join the navy long before I ever remember seeing water, though I must have seen it as an infant. You are right, though, that the experience of seeing ships for the first time (at and Greenwich too!) was a dramatic one. I can, if I close my eyes, still hear the slaps of rope against mast that I heard then. There truly is nothing like it, is there? That sense of freedom a boy gets upon seeing a ship and realising the world is so much larger than what little he has seen. Perhaps for us more than most, I think. We were both of us chafing at the spaces out carved for us even at such tender ages. Even with all that happened, I cannot regret joining. I think sometimes it might have been better if I had not, for others especially, but I always find myself coming back to that moment, that glorious feeling. What else could I have been if not a sailor? I don’t know that I’d have survived any other life.

You made me laugh at your suggestion of retirement. Dear Francis, forgive my bluntness, but with what fortune shall I retire? I am comfortable now but I have little in the way of savings and certainly not enough to sustain myself on a pension. No, I must work a good few more years, and if I am to be behind a desk then so be it. I will consider the suggestion of a merchant vessel, at least, though I am not sure I could stand having to admit my lack of ability for the Navy quite so publicly.

Little writes to inform me he sets sail sometime in the next week if all goes according to plan and the weather cooperates accordingly. I am sure I will have seen him by the time I get your reply, if not sooner. It will be wonderful to see him again. You know, I was afraid his recovery would be much like mine has been, slow and long and reaching only a quarter completion before failing entirely. I know he was not struck with scurvy too severely, but scurvy was not the only suffering we had to contend with then, was it? I mean no disrespect to him, Edward Little is one of the finest men I’ve served with, but lesser horrors have broken stronger men. I take great comfort in knowing he’ll be Commander aboard a vessel. Dare I say, it gives me some hope for myself. I may never have the physical strength I once had, but perhaps I shall regain some level of mental fortitude still.

Please look after yourself, dear friend. The remains of your foot, as you put it, must be cared for lest you risk further injury. If I can put vanity aside long enough to use my eyeglasses (and you must know how much I despise the things), you can surely rest your foot and use a cane as needed, for you are not half so vain as I. 

You have sent me many fascinating things with which to occupy my mind (and do thank Dr Goodsir for those delightfully bizarre animals!), and I feel I should send you something in return, though I doubt you need much occupation in a house full of children. There’s not much in the way of scientific literature that poses through these parts but I found a book of poetry in Gardiner’s library that I do so love, and I’ve transcribed a few of them for you. Do give me your thoughts.

Yours as always,

James

****

My dear James,

Your painting of the harbour was excellent and it now hangs framed on the wall of my bedroom. I am very fond of it and should I ever leave the Rosses to take up residence elsewhere it shall be the first thing I pack. I enjoy too the drawing of Namur – she seems a lovely cat and though I prefer dogs I think I shall like her very much when I eventually visit. I admit to having less fondness for the poetry – being that I am not of a mind for it – and will perhaps appreciate it more if you explain it to me. Forgive me James pretty language was never my strongest suit – though I am sure if you like them they must be most beautiful. 

I shall take you to Banbridge one day if you so desire. I doubt you will find much to enjoy about the place dull as it is but if you wish to see it for yourself I will take you. Perhaps we might travel somewhere nicer together too. If Edinburgh turns out to be pleasing you should join me on another trip to see Goodsir and Collins. I think too I shall try to visit you soon as I am feeling restless. I don’t much care for the heat but the acres of land around me here are growing tiresome and I wish to see the sea almost as much as I wish to see you. If you would not be opposed to having an old man take up temporary residence in your home I would be happy to look into the matter further and see about arranging transport. 

I am much warmed by the image of you covered in dust for I cannot imagine the James I know willingly allowing his hair to become such a mess. I wonder now if I would have liked the young boy or if he would have driven me beyond lunacy. Your Graham Gore – God rest him – was a Boy aboard a ship on which I was Mate – what an oversight that we’ve never spoken of it – and being of Navy heritage he comported himself well – though he suffered terribly from sea sickness the first month of the voyage. He knew all his knots and never shied from work. I don’t mean to imply you were the opposite. You were likely the same knowing what I know of you now – yet I still imagine you’d have had a wilful streak a mile long and found yourself often in mischief despite managing not breaking any rules with it.

Edward’s ship sailed three days ago so he may already be with you by the time this reaches you. If he is, give him my warmest regards. I need ask nothing more for I am sure you’ll treat him well. I too was concerned for his recovery I admit but he is perhaps stronger than we knew. More fool us for underestimating him.

As for your own recovery you are too hard on yourself. You forget that I saw you inches from succumbing to it and held you when I thought you were breathing your last. There is no comparison between then and now. You came home too with all your fingers and toes and forget I am missing half a foot. Any other thing you suffer – anything of the mind or of aches and pains and lack of sleep – these are things I suffer too and endure with far less ability and grace than you. You are recovered most impressively given it all and if you improve no further you should still consider yourself a success of health.

What other news do I have for you? Jopson tells me he’ll be taking up aboard the Blenheim. I had hoped for a better position for him than a guard ship and though he will not say outright I believe he is disappointed also. We can only hope his talents are seen and justly rewarded in due course. Sir James intends to make artful comments about the matter in shot of the right ears and he will do a far better job than any angry letter on my part much as I may wish to write one. A small lament to Gardiner about the fate of your brother in hardship may not go amiss either and I am sure Little and Le Vesconte and anyone else of our sorry party and a good few of the rescuers are doing the same to whatever ears they may have access to. If I were at all in good standing with anyone of importance I would do the same but I fear I would do more harm than good.

I have seen Irving again – he called in to see us while in the area visiting an old friend. His voyage has been delayed though he is otherwise in good spirits. Sir James offered him a room but it was declined in favour of a place at the home of his friend so as not to tax our already busy household – though I have been invited to dinner next week and Sir James too if he can tear himself from Ann.

We’ve spoken of our futures and the lives we wish to build now we have the chance and I admit lately I am less settled with my commitment to bachelorhood. It is hard to be in a house such as this and not wish to know for myself such depth of love. I do not begrudge Sir James and Ann what they have – far from it – but I have found myself a touch lonely despite being surrounded by a family that calls me their own. The feeling will be rectified soon enough – these dark moods come and go as they have my entire life. I will visit Jopson in December once he is settled and I will find something to do with myself before then. I have promised to take little James to a small fair in Buckingham next week also to see a menagerie and I am sure he will force my enjoyment of it as only children can. Before you ask I will bring my cane and take rest as often as his enthusiasm allows.

And now a more difficult subject. We have apparently found ourselves in the habit of openly condoning sin. Do not misunderstand me – I have no regrets for my endorsement of Bridgens and Peglar. I must ask you something though. I beg you do not take it in the spirit of insult – rather take it as what it is meant – a friend wishing to know his friend. I feel I do not need to put into words my question now for the meaning is surely clearly inferred so I shall just say that I shall think no less of you as a man and consider you no less a friend if the answer is yes.

Yours, as always,

Francis Crozier

****

Francis

Forgive my scepticism regarding your acceptance of the confession I am about to make, and know that I shall hold no malice towards you if you were to rescind it. You have surmised correctly, and I find myself regretting having been so damnably obvious. It is born perhaps of having already admitted other sins to you and you alone, for my guard is far lower with you than it perhaps ought to be. Do not mistake me, I have never broken the Articles aboard ship, nor while in uniform in any capacity. I can at least say that for myself. I have accepted my lot regarding my nature and accepted too what it means for my life, though not especially happily. I spoke of the rarity of situations such as that of Bridgens and Peglar. I have never envisioned such an outcome for myself even when I was hale and healthy – how impractical such a thing would be for a Lieutenant or Commander – which I suppose has made it rather easy to accept the sheer impossibility of such a thing now for the scraps of myself brought back from the Arctic. You will of course call me dramatic for that view, but I remind you that you too see your bachelorhood as inevitable and unchangeable. We are equally dissatisfied with being alone and equally accepting of the necessity of it.

If, by pure miracle, you have read this far rather than throw my confession into the fire, let us move on to easier topics. Edward Little arrived safely yesterday, and it was a great pleasure to see him. I hardly recognised him with trimmed hair and whiskers. He confided in me that he intends to ask Fremantle to consider Jopson for Lieutenant should the position arise. It is not an immediate solution of course but there is at least hope for the future. Fremantle asked me for my opinion on dear Edward, and I gave him my highest recommendations. I believe Fremantle is used to more bombastic officers, and Edward being such a quiet sort is something of an adjustment, but I assured him that Edward is as capable as any man I know, and that his tendency not to attempt to dominate conversation is surely a positive quality. I am sure you are positively collapsing with laughter at me having said such a thing given your memories of my monopolising the dinner table discussions.

I have of course spoken to Gardiner regarding Jopson, and he may not be our best ally here as he expressed shock that a steward could have been promoted to officer. Rash though it may be, I am finding myself ever more willing to resign my post as soon as I am free to do so. How ever did I count myself among this world, Francis? I strived so very hard to become of their sort and yet I find myself now so utterly repulsed by such values. We neither of us would be here without Tom Hartnell and Thomas Jopson and John Bridgens, none of whom were of ranks considered worthy and all of whom are three of the best men I have ever known. We survived in no small part thanks to the kindness and skill of the Netsilik. And I would not have made it home if not for an Irishman.

I am tired, Francis. I wish for England, for friends and brothers and something other than a uniform I feel unfit to wear, and to never again hear men talk of what we suffered as an exciting story of triumph of Empire to be shared over brandy, rather than a tragic loss of life to be mourned and a lesson to be learned. 

Forgive me. My emotions have run away from me and my pen has followed with them. My health has been poor this last week and my sleep interrupted regularly by dreams that are unpleasant to say the least. It is this I speak of when I say I consider my recovery to have been a meagre one. I eat far more oranges and lemons than is likely sensible for constant fear of growing ill again, and I cannot sleep in a fully darkened room. I am struck often with the need to check my injuries to ensure they have not reopened once more. I am, in short, rather a pitiful mess of a creature. I hid it well when staying with you and Sir James but truthfully, I was even more a mess then. Namur’s presence helps a little, her purring especially seems to soothe me when I am at my worst, but still, I am not nearly so steady as I once was.

I will stop writing now for it seems beginning with a confession of such magnitude has unlocked something in me and if I do not put my pen down now I fear I shall never stop.

Do look after yourself at that fair, and do not let little James run you ragged.

James

****

My dear James,

I have not changed my mind regarding our friendship and my acceptance of your nature. I feel I must start there. I wish I had more to say on the matter – that I could reassure you more thoroughly – but I admit I am out of my depth. I will say though that I am glad you have told me and that I delight in knowing you better. 

The state of you concerns me greatly. If you ask it of me I shall be on the first ship to Gibraltar on which I can find passage – I would not for a moment consider it a burden or an imposition and you must avail of the offer if you ever feel you have need of me. You may even harangue me regarding my cane for my entire stay should I come if that would make asking me more appealing to you. I do not care to think of you alone there without me.

You are not alone in your struggles though. I have all but become a hermit here excepting small outings with the children (little James enjoyed the menagerie with much enthusiasm and wishes a penguin for a pet – a common trait among Jameses it seems) and an incident or two of socialising – and then on almost all occasions with one of our sorry few. I too cannot stand being a spectacle though it is easier for me as I was never much called on to give stories in the first place. I imagine it is much harder for you to fade into the background at the sorts of events where our story might be considered entertainment. I once resented it of you though I regret it now and have done since I allowed myself to know you as a man. I can say little in the way of commiseration other than a promise that should you return here to England, we shall find a place together away from society where we both may have control over what we say and to whom we say it.

Irving was well when I saw him for dinner. He is looking forward to New Zealand and spoke of the land there which is – he is told – much like Scotland and most suited for the raising of sheep. I am glad too that Little is well and adapting comfortably to his new role. Do keep me updated on his progress whenever you see him.

I have little else to share but you have asked before for distractions and so I send to you some more work on the science of magnetism that I have been saving and annotating for you.

Send your next letter to Jopson’s address as I shall be staying with him there by the time your reply arrives.

Your friend as always

Francis

****

My dear Francis,

Oh, what a relief it was to receive your letter after the outburst in my own. I am moved quite to tears by your kindness regarding my inclinations. Such acceptance is not a thing to be expected for men of my kind from anyone but our own and to have such a gift from you is almost more than I can bear. I am reminded keenly of our walk to the cairn and the kindness you showed me then, for the relief and brotherhood I felt upon reading your letter is much the same. I cherish our friendship Francis, truly I do, and I was so afraid of having lost it.

I would like you to visit, of course I would, but by the time you get this it shall be close enough to Christmas that any immediate travel would keep you from Buckinghamshire for the event, and I am sure the Rosses would wish you there for it, especially the little ones. Perhaps we may arrange something in the early months of the coming year, though I would not wish to make you travel too close to your planned trip to Scotland. If you are willing, perhaps February would be a suitable time for you to visit? And do stop referring to yourself as an old man!

I admit most of my time has been spent worrying about your reply, and all in Gibraltar has been ordinary so I have even less to report than usual. Dundy tells me that a date for his wedding has yet to be decided upon, as there are apparently some members of his fiancée’s family her mother absolutely insists must come to the event but will be travelling from Scotland and must be given time to arrange their affairs. I fear he is going slowly mad with it all and is most eager to elope, and apparently Elizabeth is equally ready to be wed. I have counselled him against the idea of course and reminded him of how many dear friends and brothers wish to use his wedding as a reunion of sorts, and we can but hope he shall listen to me.

Thank you for the included articles, I found them most interesting. I have devoured every volume regarding magnetism in Gardiner’s library and with the addition of your notations, I find I am fast falling in love with the science. I have been trying my hand at a few minor experiments to see some of the principles in action and have found myself most distracted from my usual concerns. Between this and your suggestion of painting, I am finding the days here much less dreary.

I promise you my spirits will lift soon. You said it yourself, these moods come and go and though my own experience of these dreadful bouts of misery is recent by comparison, I’m sure I shall learn to endure them as you have.

I hope your journey to Portsmouth was without incident and that Jopson is well. Don’t you dare allow him to fall into old habits and begin acting as your steward during your stay. When we all manage to get him a real posting, he’ll have one of his own and have to learn to get used to being the one served.

Yours, as always,

James 

****

My dear James,

Portsmouth is full of sailors and all them younger than I ever was. Jopson looks most fine in his uniform and I have no doubt he shall keep it in better condition than any other officer. We walked the streets together with him wearing it and I felt more a father than ever before – my newly promoted son on my arm to show me the place he now calls home. He shares lodgings with his younger brother John who has found work here at the shipyard. He is a little old to be apprenticed but he is learning the trade all the same and is as smart and tenacious a lad as dear Thomas. I am enjoying my stay very much – Thomas is of course working most days but I have my own memories enough of Portsmouth to occupy my time with finding old haunts. It is good to be by the sea again and smell salt in the air.

Thomas has managed not to do much more than is required of a good host thus far but he has fussed over the buttons on my coat and I am sure my cane is more polished now than when I arrived. I have told him to treat me as an equal but I fear to him I shall always be sir.

I have heard no news of an elopement so I must believe that Le Vesconte has controlled himself thus far. If you have heard otherwise do tell me as I would like to send him a gift and an offer to hide him and his bride from wrathful relatives if required. A man does not grow up in such a place as Banbridge and with so many sisters without developing an understanding for why a couple may wish to elope.

As for my visit – February sounds ideal. I shall begin organising things here.

I have been cursing myself since sealing my last envelope for being dishonest with you. It was a lie by omission rather than an outright lie but a lie all the same and I beg your forgiveness. I gave falsely the impression that I am not of the same sort – this is not entirely correct. Though I’ve not ever acted on such feelings I have had them. Many years ago I fancied myself in love with a man. Naturally it did not result in anything. In any case I cannot know what it’s like to be as you are and not feel for women at all so I can hardly claim kinship – but you are at least speaking to one who knows the loneliness those feelings can cause.

I shall be back in Buckinghamshire for your next letter.

Yours,

Francis

****

My dear Francis,

Do not apologise. It is not an easy thing for a man to admit, and I cannot fault you for keeping it to yourself. Still, I do thank you for telling me. I’ve felt so very alone most of my life, first with my parentage and then with this. In both respects I have found understanding – and yes, a kinship – with you, dear Francis. For that I shall be always grateful.

I am delighted to hear that Jopson is well, and with his brother too. I would like to visit myself someday, though a part of me hopes I shall not get the chance due to Jopson being given a better posting before I am free to leave. I do love Portsmouth though and should like to see it again. I saw something of Chatham and its bordering towns before I left for Gibraltar and though pleasant enough (and Rochester with that marvellous castle!), I did find myself wishing I was leaving from Portsmouth. 

I have only a short letter for you today as my head does not seem quite so capable of producing words as usual. That said, my mood has improved a little, and there seems to be less of a black fog over me lately. Sleep is, of course, still difficult, but I persevere.

February cannot come soon enough.

Yours,

James

****

My dear James,

I hope this letter finds you in better spirits. For my part I’ve been laid up in bed for days due to a miserable head-cold that has swept through the house. Nothing serious I assure you but the pressure behind my cheekbones is most uncomfortable and I care for little else but sleep and putting my head over steam. Little James is somehow full of energy despite it and it’s been the work of two nannies to keep him abed and not running around the house. The girls are much more sensible though the nurse tells me they have leveraged their illness for cake more than once so far. Thomas and Ann are being kept away from us all in another wing of the house and I am told miss us all dearly. It is strange to have a nurse tending me now – after everything it seems both a decadence I should not allow myself and a waste of the poor woman’s time. I told her I had half my foot chopped off without so much as a swig of whiskey nor a thimble of opium and that a stuffed up nose is nothing by comparison but she is Irish and Irish women of her age do not suffer the complaints of men over such matters. 

I have a provisional place aboard a merchant vessel – the Iberia. I have no exact date yet as her Captain is awaiting confirmation of cargo from various sources but the plan is to set sail in the first week of February. He seemed most confused as to why I was taking up with private merchants and not a Navy vessel but he seems a decent sort and I think I shall get on well enough with him.

Naturally I have little other news to share being that I have done nothing much but sneeze and cough and feel miserable – but I have heard from Irving who shall be sailing not long after Christmas if the calm weather holds.

We’ve had snow too and I despise the sight of it. I imagine you see no such thing in Gibraltar and I envy you greatly. It is close enough to Christmas that the house will soon be bedecked in decorations. I will of course be here for it and while I do not much care for events such as these, it will please me to see the children happy.

I have a question to put to you also if it is not too personal. I would like to know if there are others who know of you. I wonder perhaps if you have told Le Vesconte of yourself and your nature. You are one of two who know of me – the other being the man to whom I once foolishly declared myself. He thankfully did not tell any other.

I include a parcel that you are not to unwrap before Christmas, and a smaller one for Namur.

Yours,

Francis

****

My dear Francis,

I am sorry to hear of your illness. If you are all still unwell or have any lingering effects, please do have your nurse make up the recipe for tea I have included. It’s one my cook here swears by, and I find the ginger most warming when I am feeling miserable or sick or anything else. It’s of Moroccan origin and I often ask for it when I am well, too, for it is absolutely delicious.

Truthfully if it were not for my position here, I think I should like Gibraltar very much. There is so much liveliness here among the local population of Moors and Mediterraneans, and so much marvellous food. The Moors especially are masters at creating the most wonderful dishes without meat, which obviously suits me perfectly these days. I am anxious to find out if you will enjoy the cuisine as much as I. If none of it is to your liking I can of course have the cook prepare anything you wish, and she will do it well, but I think it is quite a waste of her native talents to not have her work her magic with Moroccan spices and vegetables. There’s a sort of grain popular among her people known as ‘kuskus’. It’s steamed several times and takes on a fluffy texture I can hardly describe. Truthfully, I had thought myself incapable of enjoying food ever again before I came here. Meat is so unpalatable to me now and anything at all that reminds me of those blasted tins in even the most obscure way makes me nauseous, yet now I can finish most of dinner without difficulty and enjoy every bite. I wonder if perhaps I might seek a posting in India after this, if I grow too tired of life here. I remember the food there being similarly lacking in meat and of equally enjoyable flavours, and I imagine that Indian society is much less in want of excitement for people to be preoccupied with matters of failed expeditions.

I know the Iberia, she has come here a few times in my tenure. I’ve had little cause to talk to Captain Saunders myself but he has always seemed a man of good character. I trust him to bring you here safely, though I admit I shall worry incessantly from the moment you embark to the moment you land.

Dundy has been in touch to say a date has finally been set for mid January, though I am sure you have already received your invitation. I will sadly not be able to attend of course, but I hope you all shall have a good time without me. He intends to take Elizabeth honeymooning around the Mediterranean when they are done with the bridal tour (if she is not already with child from what I am sure will be most enthusiastic celebrations), so I shall at least see them for myself eventually.

I have so far obeyed your instructions regarding the parcel, though it sits on my dresser most tauntingly. Namur, being free of Human concerns, does not realise she is awaiting a gift but is nonetheless intrigued by the new arrivals to my room. I am sure whatever our gifts are, we shall love both love them, and I hope you enjoy the gift I have sent you, too.

As for your question, well, I suppose I must tell you that you are the only one I have ever told without being certain he was also of this persuasion – and even then, it was only because you deduced it. Dundy is dear to me indeed, as are my darling brother and my friend Edward Charlewood, but as far as they know I’m as eager for the bawdy houses as the rest of them when I make port. I’m sure you can understand why a man such as me would balk at letting such a thing be known, especially to fellow officers. Your bravery in admitting it to whichever man you fell for is immeasurable, and I am sorry it was a fruitless confession. 

That said, some Navy men do know. Bridgens and Peglar, certainly, and a handful of others of our kind. It is often presumed that our existence is a miserable and brutal one, and in many ways it can be. But, not in all ways. There is a brotherhood among our sort, we look out for each other and keep each other safe wherever possible, and we care for each other as the outside world cannot. There is an entire society beneath what most know, and it is one of laughter and joy and even marriage – though obviously not in a legitimate form. You have seen for yourself in Bridgens and Peglar a little of it. Of all my regrets, dear Francis, that I cannot truly be a part of that world is perhaps one of the largest. I should have liked to have let myself embrace that society fully rather than linger on the outskirts of it as I do.

Do feel better soon, Francis. And do give my love to the Rosses.

Yours,

James

****

My dear James,

I am mostly recovered from my illness – in no small part due to your ginger concoction which I find I prefer more than the ordinary sort – and managed to sit through most of Christmas without issue though I retired earlier than the others. I do so adore the children but the excitement and noise of the day would have been too much even were I well and I had to retire to bed with a headache shortly after gifts were opened. I admit this was in part motivated by being overly moved by your gift. Every drawing in the collection is marvellous. I had not thought myself so desperate to see Terror again and the way you have rendered her has soothed a longing in me I’ve carried since we walked out. The football scene brought me back to the men and their happy shouts – and I shall take the painting of dear Neptune to be framed as soon as I can. And as for your drawing of me – I cannot imagine you ever having had cause or inclination to sketch me in person so I must believe it is from memory alone – and I cannot believe you see me as such a proud figure and not the hunched old man I am. It is by far the kindest gift I have ever received and it makes my own offering of a few books seem cruel by comparison.

Thomas Blanky tells me you had some Spanish dolls sent to the girls and a quilt for his wife – and a very fine pipe for him. The children here are mad for the sweets and toys and of course Ann and Sir James love the Turkish delight and the Persian vase. You have quite a talent for gift-giving it seems though I still think I have received the best of all of it.

I have not had Moorish food in my life but I am willing to try. Food for me has never been more than sustenance so it shall be interesting to learn to see it through your eyes.

I will miss you of course at the wedding. Goodsir I believe is already travelling south and bringing Collins along with him – and Jopson can of course attend being that the wedding is in Portsmouth. Irving being still in the country will travel with me. Sir John and Ann are undecided but I think Ann should like to show off Thomas and they should both like to see Blanky – whose girls have already offered to look after the youngest Ross and seem most excited to have a baby to entertain.

I am glad that some at least know of you even if it is not your closest companions. Knowing as I do the hardship that keeping the secret of your birth has caused you I wished to think of you as having found some acceptance for this even if it is not to the degree you would have liked.

Yours as always,

Francis

****

My dear Francis,

By the time this reaches you, you are likely home from the wedding festivities. I am ever so excited to hear all of it, and as I obviously cannot rely on a detailed retelling from dear Dundy, I must turn to you! 

Christmas and the New Year here has been as you’d expect. There have been parties and functions and soirées, and all of them stifling. Rarely is there anything I can stomach, so I am often ravenous by the time I arrive home and not a little dizzy from the wine that flows so freely at such things, and I believe Lalla is losing all patience with me for she has started demanding I fill up on flatbreads and various sauces (another Moroccan experience you must have) before I leave for an event. I am of course obeying her. I have been lucky enough to find good company at a few of these things though, so do not think me too unhappy. I think I simply enjoy complaining to you too much to talk of enjoying myself at a party.

I am so glad you liked my gift. I thought you would likely appreciate something made by my own hand more than anything I could purchase, and I am thrilled to be right. You are why I paint again, dear Francis, and I am so very glad to be able to share with you the fruits of my endeavours. I wanted to commemorate in some way the better times of the expedition, and remember more than just the disaster it became. I did draw you from memory, too, though I drew you often on the expedition. I wish I could have brought with me the sketchbook I kept to show you some of the surreptitious studies I did of you, but alas, it shall remain forever on Erebus. There was one in particular of you standing on the deck, one foot up on a bitt and hands behind your back, staring back at the Whale Fish Islands as we sailed away from them. We weren’t quite close enough that I could see you properly, so I admit to using my spyglass to better take you in. We were not quite adversaries then, and I was so very fascinated by you. The man I had admired for so long, looking every bit the Captain I’d heard him to be, and not three hours since you’d scoffed at my magnetic readings and offered no advice. I wished so much then to learn from you, to measure up and be seen by you. That was the source of much of my grandstanding, you know. It was never for Franklin’s benefit. I wished you would see me as brave and capable, and would have done near anything to earn your approval. It was of course entirely the wrong tact to take with you, I know now, and I still wonder how things might have been had I been more willing to prove myself with humility than vanity. You were cruel to me then, I shan’t pretend otherwise, but that does not erase my own foolishness and arrogance. I never would have thought then that we should be as dear to each other now as we are.

Your gifts were every bit as wonderful to me as mine have apparently been to you. How much time must you have spent on reading through every book and providing annotations and explanations for me? I can hardly imagine, and to think myself worthy of so much of your time means more to me than I can say. I cannot read as fast as I once could, damn my useless eye, but I have already made my way through half of the first and shall endeavour to finish it in time for your visit so that we can discuss it. I feel I must point out that you’ve no need to spend your stay tutoring me, but I know you enjoy speaking of magnetism to little James so perhaps it might be enjoyable to explain it all to a James old enough to understand. Perhaps in return, and if it interests you, I can produce that volume of poetry from which I copied for you once and make good on my promise to explain the meanings to you.

As for your gift to Namur, it is by far her favourite toy. I fear it is not long for this world as she has kicked the thing about with much enthusiasm, and already she has managed to pull some threads loose. She enjoyed the paper in which it was wrapped almost as much, diving into the pile of it and skidding across my floor at great speeds. I hope the ball will survive long enough that you might see her play with it for yourself.

It shall likely be near time to begin preparing your room for your stay by the time I receive your next letter, so do give me any necessary instructions.

Yours, as always,

James 

****

My dear James,

Despite myself I had an enjoyable time of it at the wedding and was glad to see so many of our friends. Dundy (for I am to call him that now at his insistence) has chosen very well for a bride as she is as lively as he and by his own admission with twice as much sense. His limp is not quite so pronounced as mine but after having danced with Elizabeth so much as he did he joined Thomas Blanky and I on our little cripple’s table and let her take many spins with brothers and uncles – all while gazing at her and completely unfit for conversation as a result. Goodsir was most popular – it seems his publications on Arctic fauna are a favourite of several of both Dundy’s and Elizabeth’s relatives who are in the sciences. He was as amiable and pleasant company as he’s ever been and one would hardly know he was on the expedition at all were it not for his eating only vegetable dishes – of which there were plenty thanks to Dundy’s insistence on behalf of his brother survivors. Collins was quiet and bowed out after 2 hours but we none of us held it against him. I worry about the lad but Harry assures me he is doing well in Edinburgh and spends most of his time in the garden. It seems he has a green thumb and I look forward to seeing the results of his talents for myself. I understand it – though liable to kill any plant by so much as looking at it I too have felt the urge to surround myself with green things. It is good to see life again after so much death and good to be reminded that we are now on land where plants and insects and men can survive. Jopson was at ease such as I did not expect – though he still grinned like a boy at every mention of his rank. He spoke much of Little who writes to him often and said he would like to serve with him again if possible. I understand Edward is doing his level best to make that happen.

All in all it was a lovely affair and I was sorry to leave them all at the end of it. Sir James and Ann regret not attending but Thomas has been griping lately and both wished to tend to him. Sir James is such an attentive father as I’m sure you remember – it is a wonder to see and bittersweet too for men such as we. You were of course missed sorely and Dundy confided that he would have much rather had you by his side than one of Elizabeth’s brothers. We all spoke of you often enough that you were a presence all the same.

I am only just back in Buckinghamshire and too tired to write much more. I’ve no instructions for a room – whatever you have will be fine though I will admit to requiring one not too far from the stairs. Damn this foot and damn my knee. And don’t trouble yourself with a reply as given the delays in post this time of year and the potential for leaving earlier than planned there is every possibility I may be already aboard Iberia by the time it arrives. 

I am looking forward to seeing you again – it has been too long and as Sir James insists on reminding me I smile only for the children and for your letters. 

Yours most sincerely,

Francis

****

Dearest Thomas,

I’ve arrived safely in Gibraltar and two days ahead of schedule thanks to favourable winds – and though I hate to do so I must now admit you were correct. I did not believe seeing him again would affect me quite so much but it has and I must conclude that I do feel what I claimed so forcefully against when I saw you last. I have as you demanded pulled my head from my arse and realise now the depth of my emotions.

I think there is cause to believe in his reciprocation but I cannot be certain. What do I do, Thomas? If I confess I risk our friendship in the event I am mistaken. If I suffer in silence I shall at least retain our friendship but will perhaps be denying us both a chance at more.

Please refrain from gloating over much when you offer your advice.

Your friend,

Frank

****

Frank,

Bloody told you so didn’t I. Tell the lad he’s mad for you anyone can see it. Saw the way he looked at you at them meetings always thought he had it bad for you. Lad used to stare at your arse all the bloody time I bet he’d do a lot more to it once your thick head isn’t in the way.

Tell him Frank let yourself have a bit of happiness.

Thomas

****

My dear Francis,

I hope my letter finds you well in Gibraltar, though I have it on excellent authority that you are supremely well indeed. I understand from Thomas that it is likely that you have at last admitted the depth of your feelings to dear Fitzjames and I am in no doubt that he has reciprocated. Had you not refused to believe me when I pointed out how obviously head-over-heels you were for the man, perhaps I would have had the chance to tell you how equally obvious his affections were for you and then you would not have needed to ask Thomas for advice. You forget, old man, I had the two of you under my roof and got to see first hand how much you both sought to imitate Ann and myself in the early days of our courtship! How neither of you saw it for yourselves I haven’t the slightest clue, so obvious were you both.

Still, I am delighted for you, even if I fear I shall soon be losing you to Gibraltar. Ann and the children shan’t forgive you at all if you do not come home for at least a month before you make the move permanently. When your darling’s posting is over, perhaps you shall consent to settling near enough to us that we might have your company regularly.

I told you those many years ago that I would be your friend through all things, and that I would support you should your heart steer you towards the sterner sex once more. I hope you can feel certain now in the truth of that statement. While perhaps not the easiest sort of love to have found, I believe the two of you would not be half so happy with any other, and therefore Ann and I, and Thomas too, shall do all we can to make your lives together long and happy ones.

Do give our warmest regards and congratulations to your darling. And please remember to bring home something for the children, as all who can speak are most excited to see what you will have for them.

Yours most sincerely,

JCR

****

Darling,

Thank you for letting me know so promptly of your safe arrival. I’ve been most nervous since seeing you off, and to know you are once again safe on dry land brings me almost as much joy as shall be brought by having you here with me once again.

Needless to say, I miss you terribly and I am desperate for these interminable months to pass quickly so that I do not suffer your absence too severely. I must also make a confession, my love. The nightshirt you misplaced is in fact not misplaced at all. I lifted it from your dresser shortly before you began repacking your trunk with the intention of keeping it for myself, and I now sleep in it nightly. It is not at all the same as being in your arms, but as it is the closest I can have for now, I cherish it greatly.

Harry writes to tell me he is most enthusiastic to see you again. I suppose I should tell you now that he is aware of us. Believe me when I say I would not have confided in him if I did not know for certain the safety of doing so, and I imagine you shall see for yourself why I trust him and Henry Collins when you visit.

On the subject of visits, Dundy and Elizabeth will be arriving soon. It pains me greatly that I cannot share our happiness with him as we can with Sir James and Ann, and Thomas Blanky too. But, life is as it is, and I suppose I shall have to make my peace with it. I have you, my love, and that is reward enough indeed for any hardship I may face in loving you as I do.

I have little other to report but that Namur misses her favourite seat and now turns her nose up at my far less comfortable lap, and that Lalla misses having another voice praising her meals. I believe she is likely to put on quite the feast for your return and I suspect she may already be planning, so do make sure to arrive hungry.

And now, dear heart, I should like to remind you a little of our time together and make promises for our future in such a way that I must recommend you retire somewhere private with these papers.

I was, as you know, alone and without companionship of the physical sort for many years before you. I had for the most part been able to bear it, yet only a few short weeks without you and I am near climbing the walls with the force of my need. I think every night of how your hands felt upon my skin and try to replicate the sensations with my own. Mine are not quite so broad and rough as yours, and do not feel nearly so delectable. Nor are my fingers quite thick enough to satisfy after knowing the stretch of yours. Perhaps now you are thinking that you liked my fingers very much indeed, but I assure you yours are much more satisfying for such uses. 

I think too of the heat of your mouth around me, and the way you learned so quickly how to use your tongue to tease and toy with me and turn me into a puddle of desperate desire. Do you remember the things I did to you with mine? How I opened you up for me like a blossoming flower and speared it into you until you were loose and begging me for more? When you return home I shall lay back and pull you onto my face, hold you there by your luscious thighs as I do the same to you again. Perhaps too I shall tie your hands so you have no recourse to touch yourself where you’ll most need it and have to submit to my attentions as long as I wish to give them. When I have finally had my fill of your sweet entrance, I shall turn you around and seat you in my lap, and you shall ride me as you did that final night until you decorate my chest with your essence without even a touch to your lovely prick.

Or perhaps I shall finish first, fill you up with my seed and feel you milk it from me with your body. Then, my darling, I shall free your hands and let you make me loose and ready for you, put my arse in the air for you and let you take me hard as you like until I too am dripping with spend and fucked so well I can hardly move. 

Sometimes when I am alone, I take my fingers in my mouth and try to produce the same stretch in my jaw as your magnificent prick gave me. Lord how I love the weight of it. When we first undressed for each other I was so shocked to see it in all it’s considerable glory, so much more than I’d dared dream and yet exactly what I imagined for you those times I indulged myself in fantasy. You could hardly stay standing when I fell to my knees and swallowed you down, but you held my hair and guided me until I was granted the gift of tasting you. It’s a wonder I didn’t come off then, when the first spurt of it hit my eager tongue.

Despite all the crude and sinful thoughts I have of you, my love, the one that appeals to me most of all is waking up beside you once more. Perhaps you would be curled around me with your nose in my hair and a hand on my belly. You would be thickening slowly against my arse as you came to consciousness, I would wriggle back against you slightly to ease you along. I would feel your fingers drag lazily over my skin and up to play with my tits, my nipples hardening betwixt your fingers as you explore and remember whom you have in your bed. I like to think I would be too sore from having you the night before. And you would know this, and though wanting me badly, you would not wish to hurt me, and so you would reach back to retrieve the oil from the bedside table and use it to slick my thighs for you instead. Still on the edge of sleep, you would slide betwixt my legs and rock yourself there as I clenched them around you. You would take me in hand with slow strokes and bite my neck with gentle teeth as you worked yourself, I would feel your prick against my stones with every thrust, and together we would lay there like that until both of us reach the crisis and fall apart together. Then, darling, I would roll in your arms and kiss you soundly, and we would drift back to dreams in each other’s arms and wake dirty and satisfied again after an hour or two more of such blissful comfort.

Three months is a long time indeed to be without my darling, but I can survive such a cruel wait with the knowledge that we need never be parted again after that, and that our lives will be together as though married for ever after.

With greatest love and affection,

Your James


End file.
